


Wedding Date

by ColdwaughterWoes (TrickyMxtape)



Series: First Chapters [1]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: M/M, Nigel is Eliot's SW name, No Magic AU, fake dating (kind of?) - Freeform, sex worker eliot waugh, sex worker margo hanson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 15:38:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20708435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrickyMxtape/pseuds/ColdwaughterWoes
Summary: A flashing GIF in the sidebar caught his eye. Facebook had changed their ads so they were sneaking past the adblock. He’d have to see if there was an update. But some of the words in the GIF stuck out to him. Professional and Upper Class Companions to Important Events. Despite himself, Quentin clicked on the ad.BRAKEBILLS AGENCYTALENT MANAGEMENT AND PARLOURFor discerning clientele looking for elite companionship-Loosely based on what I remember from both the wedding date film and novel, but tailored to Queliot





	Wedding Date

**You have been cordially invited to the wedding of...**

Quentin barely glanced at the invitation as he pulled it from the envelope, instead focused on the additional letter enclosed.

_Quentin _

_I don’t expect that you’ll be able to attend the wedding, what with the numerous things you busy yourself with in between inpatient services, but if you happen to pull yourself together for the event, please bring a date. We can’t have you bringing down the tone of the celebration by sulking in a corner, curled over a book. _

_Mom_

Well, fuck. Quentin’s first thought is to call Julia. Surely his best friend isn’t above holding his hand through a wedding and reception.

“Hey Q, what’s up?

He rambles, all the anxious feelings about never being good enough for his mother tumbling from his mouth, occasionally stammering as they tripped over themselves or became caught at the end of his tongue.  
  
“Slow down. Breathe.”

Just hearing her voice made him feel calmer. “Sorry, Jules.”

“From the words I could catch, I’m guessing this is about the wedding?”

“Yeah. Basically, my invite had a “bring a date, don’t ruin my wedding by being yourself” letter included so I was wondering...”

“Q, you know I’d love to but... James already RSVP’d for us. Pretty much the second the invitation came in, he was sending an RSVP back. I’m sorry, Quentin.”

They exchanged a few more words but Quentin had already started to spiral. What was he going to do? When Julia finally ended the call (Quentin never could, he felt bad for trying to end a conversation if the other person wanted to keep talking) he flopped forward, his forehead thunking into the wood of his desk.

_Okay, time to think of people._ He opened his laptop and started scrolling through his Facebook friends list, desperate for anyone who might take pity on him for a weekend. But it had to be someone he could actually stand, which discounted the screeds of people he went to school with and had accepted friend requests from out of a misplaced sense of loyalty to an institution he barely tolerated, and now, even though they never talked, he felt a tinge of guilt whenever he tried to unfriend them all. Shaking those feelings from his head, he continued his search.

There was Alice... No, that would be too weird. They met after his dad died, at a support group his therapist had recommended. They talked some, about his dad and her brother, but you don’t ask the friend you made at grief support to come with you to your mom’s wedding.  
  
A flashing GIF in the sidebar caught his eye. Facebook had changed their ads so they were sneaking past the adblock. He’d have to see if there was an update. But some of the words in the GIF stuck out to him. **Professional and Up****per C****lass Companions to Important Events**. Despite himself, Quentin clicked on the ad.

**BRAKEBILLS ****AGENCY  
** TALENT MANAGEMENT AND PARLOUR  
_For discerning clientele looking for elite companionship_

Quentin wasn’t rich by any means. He got by. And he had some money saved. Outside of necessities, there are only so many copies of your favourite books one can justify owning, especially when you work in a book-store. _Maybe this would work._

He checked through the people listed as working for the agency. There were check boxes for availability that Quentin used to narrow the four pages of escorts down to a more manageable list. For the days he needed, there were only two people scheduled as working. He opened the profile for the first. Janet: sparkling wit and a body to kill. There were statistics listed, but he mostly looked through her pictures. There were some artistic semi-nude shots that Quentin mostly ignored because what he needed to know is what she would look like on his arm. She was beautiful, petite and tan, but there was something too... _shiny_ Quentin finally settled on. He remembered reading about that guy who made the sparkliest glitter out of ground glass. She was like that. Bright, beautiful, and likely to cut him if he fucked up. Which is everything he doesn’t need for this wedding. His mom would already be tearing into every little slip up, he didn’t need it from his date as well.

So the other then. Nigel. He was described as being well spoken and elegant. His photographs showed him put together in well-tailored clothing... and then various stages of removing such. A smoker, but Quentin thought that would just give them excuses to sneak away from people when he need to escape and quietly hyperventilate. Perfect.

_ **To Nigel, ** _

_ **I was hoping to hire your services for the duration of a weekend to attend a wedding. This arrangement would be for couple-y levels of public affection, sleeping separately.  
** _

The professional tone of the email started to slip. Quentin composed emails like he spoke, unfiltered rambles that said absolutely every thought his mind contained, but the benefit of text was the ability to edit those thoughts after releasing them from his brain, and he didn’t have to worry about tripping over his own tongue and making a fool of himself. Well, he would probably still make a fool out of himself, but it wouldn’t be because he stammered the same syllable seven times before forcing the word he was searching for out of his mouth.

_ **Look, I don’t know how else to word this so here goes. I’m just looking for a date because my mom wants me to have one, and it’s her wedding so I have to make her happy. This definitely won’t need any of the ‘full service’ options and if you’d like, you can completely ignore me whenever we’re out of the public eye. Just, I don’t know, be nice to me when we’re around people? I know that the calendar is usually for afternoon and evening availability, and I couldn’t tell from your services list what your fee for an extended duration would be, so please email back and we can discuss from there.** _

_ **Kind regards,** _

_ **Quentin Coldwater.** _

-

Eliot heard Todd’s laugh from the couch in the sitting room he and the rest of the talent used between clients, but ignored him as he usually would most things Todd does.

“Nigel, you need to come and read this!”  
  
He untangled himself from Margo’s arms and wandered to the reception desk.

“What is ‘this’?” He asked.

“You have a request. You know that for the unusual bookings we let you set your price then put the agency mark-up on top of that so you get what you deserve.”

Eliot quirked up an eyebrow. There wasn’t much that counted as ‘unusual’ around here. If it had just been kinks, Todd would have just listed the services that required tips to the client and told Eliot when to be ready. He leaned over Todd’s shoulder and a smile grew across his face.

“Five grand. I’m in.”

Apparently this sparked Margo’s curiosity, she hopped up to join them around the computer.  
  
“Boo, he seems like he’d be fun to mess with. Why didn’t he want me?”  
  
“Maybe he’s gay. Or maybe he could tell that you’d want to mess with him.”

_Quentin Coldwater,_ he thought. _Please be as interesting as you seem._

-

There was a man lounging on the sign out front when Quentin pulled up to pick up his... date. He tripped getting out of the car, because of course he did.

“Quentin Coldwater?”

The voice shocked him out of the determined strides he was making towards the doors of Brakebills. Glancing at the man, all he could say was “Uh huh?” as the man hopped down in front of him.  
  
“I’m Nigel. You’re late.” Nigel strolled towards the car, dry cleaner’s bag over one arm and dragging a small suitcase behind him.  
  
“Don’t I need to..?” He jerked his head towards the building.

“Nah, Big Brother is watching.” Nigel replied with a gesture to the security cameras nearby. “Besides, you paid in advance, andare clearly too guileless to even consider giving a fake name, so we’re good to go.”

Quentin felt a blush rush over his face as he circled the car to pop the trunk. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Of course not. But it does mean that if you decide to kidnap me, you’ll probably get caught.” He winked as he said it, swinging his suitcase into the trunk with ease.

Quentin smiled and glanced at Nigel from under his hair. He was handsome, Quentin supposed, and much better at even this minor social situation than Quentin would be were their roles reversed. That would be good, he could distract people from what ever thing Quentin was bound to be doing wrong at the time. Part of him wanted to be gentlemanly and open the door for Nigel, but by the time that part convinced the rest of his mind, the door was open and the other man had tucked himself into the passenger seat.

-

Eliot reclined the seat back and placed a foot on the dash, watching Quentin from the corner of his eye as he came around the car. Thus far, not the worst client he had been faced with, but nearing the top of the list for the most awkward at first meeting. Eliot could only hope he would relax over their time together.

He couldn’t keep from watching him as they pulled away from Brakebills. The young man was a nervous driver. From the looks of him, and from the email Eliot had read, he was possibly a nervous everything. His fingers clutched the steering wheel tightly and it was probably beneficial to all parties involved that Quentin didn’t drive stick. Or this kind of stick at least. He looked a little uptight, but he had to be at least a little queer to book a male escort. Eliot supposed he could just ask.  
  
“So, booking a sex worker for a wedding? What prompted this?” He posed the question casually. “If you need to focus on the road, you can answer when we arrive. We should probably establish some dating back story too.”

All he received was an answering grunt. Not the time for talking yet. Music, maybe? Eliot pulled the aux cable he saw dangling from the car stereo. Hmm, something chill enough to not spook the driver, but something to set the mood. Air – Sexy Boy. Yes.

Eliot considered Quentin as he drove. Not unattractive. Cute, even, with the capacity to be more so with just a modicum of effort. Perhaps they’d find out with the wedding.

His phone pinged through the speakers.  
  
**Bambi: **Alive? What’s the rambler like? Would I have devoured him?

He chuckled and heard a quiet “Hmm?” in response.  
  
“I’d tell you but I don’t want to distract you.” He said gently.

**Daddy: **Alive. He’s quiet so far. Cute. Cautious driver. You would have made him pull over and let you drive before he’d even made it down the driveway.

“You can talk, you know. I’m able to listen. Just making the words come out of my mouth right while all the other cars are trying to do things I have to react to, not easy.”

Eliot couldn’t help but smile. “In that case, how about you prepare to learn more about the art of mixology than you ever wanted to know in your life.”  
  
So, he talks. About his favourite drinks to make, the history behind them, their flavour profiles. Eliot watches the tension drain from Quentin’s joints as he does so, and gets a small sense of satisfaction at the idea that his voice was calming the other man. At the next lights, Quentin flashed a smile back at Eliot and for a second he could swear his heart stopped. _Oh no, he’s beautiful._

_-_

Quentin left Nigel in charge of their bags while he went to check them in and quickly remembered why he shouldn’t let his mother organise anything.  
  
“Here.” He held the room card out to Nigel. “My mom didn’t listen to me so... Take this.”  
  
Nigel only arched an eyebrow in response.  
  
Quentin blushed, ducking his head and hiding behind his hair. “She said she’d cover the room but... one bed. Take the room key. I’ll book myself at somewhere cheaper nearby.”

He reached out to take his bag from the taller man but it was pulled to beyond his grasp. “I’m flattered by your attempt to protect my virtue but I’m sure there will be a couch or some other surface you can throw your body upon to rest. Come along, dear. We have a room to get to, and a conversation to have.”

Quentin had to hurry to keep up with Nigel’s long strides, joining him in the elevator and pressing the button for their floor. He peered up at him, taking the chance to really study his face with the anxiety of having an entire vehicle under his control having passed, and before the anxiety of facing the wedding could begin to take hold. The slight stubble on his jaw, the cleft in his chin... he was breathtaking. And from the slight curve at the corner of his lip, Nigel knew it. Of course he did. People pay him to be the most beautiful man in the room, Quentin was doing the same after all.

As they entered the room, Quentin started to worry his lip between his teeth. Luckily, the was a couch, bringing the list of things he had to worry about down a notch. But Quentin had never had any trouble adding things to worry about, and as that one thing was struck off, more joined the list.  
  
Nigel threw himself into the pillows on the bed like he belonged there. “So, Mister Coldwater. I believe you were going to answer some questions for me.”

“R-right. Just what you asked in the car, or do you have more?” He crumpled into the couch, pulling his knees up to his chest. Talking about things always came hard to him. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt as he waited for Nigel to respond. The man in question pushed himself up on his elbows looking curious.

“I’m guessing talking about stuff makes you a bit uncomfortable? We do need to talk about some stuff but let’s start easy.”

“Easy?’ Quentin peaked out from under his hair.  
  
“Yeah. Let’s start with some cover stories. Families are nosy from, if I recall correctly. New friend you roped into coming to a wedding? Casual dating? Hot fling you bribed with sexual favours?” He wiggles his dark eyebrows and manages to get a small smile from the other guy.

“Uhh...” Quentin trails off with a shrug. “Maybe just dating for a month or so? Would that...?”

“Sure thing babe. So, in previous relationships, what would you know about the other person by now? Also, what job do you want people to think I have? Guessing you don’t want me walking up to whoever these people are saying ‘Hi, I’m Nigel, Quentin’s sex worker boyfriend.’”

“I – I um yeah that maybe um wouldn’t be the best thing to say to my mom at her wedding. What would you be doing if it wasn’t this?”

“Clearly, I would be famous. Or infamous. Either way, very glam. But, I suppose I could pull off being a personal shopper. Show me what you’ve brought to wear and let me judge you like you deserve.”

“Well – I...” Quentin stepped over to the pile of their belongings, pulled the nice blazer from its dry-cleaning bag and held it out for Nigel to appraise.

“This is it? Both for the rehearsal dinner, and the wedding? No. Baby, no.”

Quentin’s hands tightened on the blazer. It was _nice. _Maybe he had worn it to every important event since Julia convinced him he needed it four years ago, but it was still nice.

Nigel moved from the bed to take hold of Quentin’s shoulders. “I will not be seen next to you wearing the same outfit two days in a row, and no one will buy my cover if I let you. While I could outshine you in any given scenario and draw the attention away, this is about _us_. _We can shine together_.”

“What do you have in mind?” Quentin released the death-grip he held on the blazer to instead pull on the ends of his sleeves like he was trying to make his shirt grow to envelop his body.

“Shopping.” From the look on Nigel’s face the ‘of course’ was implied. He ran his hand down from Quentin’s shoulder, tangling their fingers together and leading him to the door. “I swear I won’t drag you too far out of your comfort zone.”

**Author's Note:**

> Currently struggling to write more than just the first chapter of any story... if I am ever able to continue this story I will, but don't expect much. Find me @coldwaterwoes on tumblr


End file.
